“I hate these damned fae,” he muttered under his breath. “I hate them...”
The only thing he could do until things took a turn for the worse was stare through the stained-glass windows. Thanks to them, he could keep track of the time. The sun was currently setting, marking the end of his third day of imprisonment. Until now, he hadn’t been aware of just how much he’d missed watching the sunsets and sunrises from the mountains. Lidus, like Balium, was a mountainous country, and the sunsets there... Ah, perhaps only a poet could really describe to a steppe dweller how beautiful they were. He’d never been much of a poet. Or a talker in general.
“Amazing… I’ve always loved the mountains.”
“Why?”
“They’re quiet. And, strange as this might sound, close to the stars. They give me this incredible feeling of freedom...”
“Is the emissary of the Demon Prince not free?”
“No one in this world is truly free, Hadjar, not even the gods. And if there are other worlds out there, then there’s no freedom there, either. There wouldn’t be so much bloodshed otherwise... Funny, isn’t it? The mountains always turn me into a philosopher. Or was it more a case of them making me eat hermits and philosophers?”
Hadjar turned his head toward the voice.
An old friend of his was sitting on Ana’Bree’s throne, swinging his leg back and forth as he sipped from a bottle of fine wine. Helmer had decided to pay him another visit. As always, his attire seemed inappropriate, if not downright silly: a gray cloak and wide-brimmed hat that hid his face. A sphere of blood floated near him, and his little army of nightmares fought amongst each other at his feet.
“Why are you here, Helmer?”
The demon lifted the brim of his hat with a forefinger and grinned.
“Oho, are we on a first name basis now? Seems like our relationship has reached a new level! Can I call you Hadj? Or Hadji? Which do you prefer?”
“Silence. I prefer silence.”
“How rude. Didn’t mommy and daddy teach you manners? Oh don’t look at me like that. You wouldn’t be able to so much as lift a finger at me even if you weren’t in a cage.”
“I could still try,” Hadjar growled.
Helmer got up, dusted off his coat, and pointed at the insolent man.
“See, it’s because of your attitude that I respect you so much, Hadj. Hmm, no, that doesn’t work. Doesn’t have the same ring to it Hadjar does, y’know? Anyway, that’s why I respect you.”
Hadjar snorted and turned his gaze back to the window. Helmer’s visits had never ended well for him. He didn’t think that this time would be any different.
“I’d drink to that, but you’re the only one with a glass here.”
The demon walked over to the cage and offered him the bottle, but then immediately pulled back his hand.
“Nice try, Hadji... Nope, that doesn’t work either. Seriously, why’s your name so dumb? When you’re with a woman, does she have to moan your full name and title? Oh, Hadjar Darkhan, Mad General, descendant of the first of the Darkhans, heir to the Dark Storm clan of Prince Traves!” He laughed.
Hadjar didn’t.
“Traves wasn’t a prince,” he said, disregarding everything else.
Helmer fell back and hovered in the air. He spun the bottle atop his finger and took occasional sips from it.
“Don’t make me lose respect for you! I just praised you! Are you really as dumb as you look? Then again, you did say that you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed... I should’ve thought of that. Following a bunch of pampered kids to Greven’Dor! Ah, it sure would be nice if there was something valuable here... In fact, I think there is! A lesson on-”
“Enough!” Hadjar snapped. By now, it had become a habit for him to shut Helmer up the moment he spoke more than two sentences. Otherwise, he could blather on until the cows came home. “What did you mean when you called him a prince?”
Helmer shrugged. “Exactly what I said. That he was a prince.”
“He was a shepherd. I saw it in his memories.”
“Oh sure, sure... The Dragon Emperor suddenly needed to destroy a tribe of shepherds. And one of the shepherds just so happened to become one of the strongest dragon warriors. And he just so happened to have Heaven level armor. He was also, quite conveniently, one of the Immortals. And the tribe just so happened to know the ‘Path Through the Clouds’ Technique. All purely coincidental, I’m sure.”
“It’s a low-level meditation Technique that-”
“Hadji, Hadji, my man, my friend... Have you ever seen a multi-volume Technique in your life? You know, the kind where each volume is more complex than the one before it?”
Hadjar remained silent for a while.
Fucking intrigue! No, this is outright plotting and scheming at this point!
“How do you know all of this?”
“Did you honestly think I hired you without poking into your past first, hmm? I’m not as stupid as some people, Hadjar.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re in there, and I’m out here, drinking a bottle of fine wine,” he said with a grin and raised said bottle.
Hadjar rolled his eyes. “What makes you think that I’ll work for you?”
“Because I still don’t know what the Tarez are up to. That means that the terms of our deal have yet to be fulfilled. Until then, you work for me. Simple logic, my friend. Though, if you can’t even figure that much out on your own, I shouldn’t be surprised that you ended up in there-”
“It’s gonna be hard to find anything out from a cage.”
“Ding-ding-ding! And that’s why I’m here! What kind of boss would I be if I spent my day bathing in the blood of virgins while my employee is dying, trapped in an ice cage?”
Hadjar blinked a couple of times.
“You’re going to help me?”
Helmer suddenly turned serious. The glimmer in his crimson eyes didn’t bode well for the mortal.
“I don’t help, Hadjar. Not for free, at least. You’ll be in my debt. And rest assured, I’ll come to collect it, be you dead or alive.”
Damn plots and schemes…
Chapter 684
“A nd what if I don’t want your help?”
“Please, like you have a choice,” Helmer sneered, spreading his arms out.
Hadjar looked around once again. A cage and a hall made from ice, and a door that was probably being guarded by Spirit-golems, if not something stronger. And if only one of them had almost killed them all... He didn’t even want to think about what two of them could do.
There was still a way out through the windows. Then again, he doubted that he could break through the stained glass, even if it did seem brittle. Those who could shatter magical glass were few and far between.
“So, whaddya say, Hadj?” Helmer asked, swinging the bottle around by its neck, a half-smile on his face.
This really didn’t bode well for him.
“What will I owe you?” Hadjar asked with a heavy sigh.
“Oh, come now,” the demon replied, leaning back and falling onto a storm cloud he used as his couch. “Friends do each other favors all the time and-”
“I’m not your friend.”
“Ah, but you’ll want to be once you get to know me better! As they say, opposites attract!”
“Sure, sure,” Hadjar replied, rolling his eyes.
“You know what they say, your reflection isn’t really who you are. It’s perfect, while the one standing in front of the mirror is flawed. Damned mountains, here I go blabbing again! I gotta find a philosopher, I’m getting snackish from all this talking... You know, they actually taste different from other humans, and I don’t know why. And they crunch when you bite into them because they’re so dry and thin... Oh, and if you roast them... Mmm-mmm!”
“What will I owe you?” Hadjar interrupted the demon flatly.
“Ahem, right, right...” Helmer cleared his throat. “Like I said, nothing special.
I’ll just expect you to do me a favor one day. By my Name,” a golden glow suddenly flashed around him despite the fact that he hadn’t bled, which was essential for an oath, “you will want to do it, too.”
For a split-second, the demon’s gaze clouded over, as if he were looking at something deep inside his soul. Provided, of course, that demons even had one.
Hadjar sighed. “I accept.”
This situation was way too similar to that time when the Sword had left its mark on his back. The only difference was that he knew what he was dealing with this time. Granted, only a madman would make a deal with a demon, but he’d never considered himself particularly sane.
“Splendid! Here you are!”
Helmer snapped his fingers and sent a splinter flying. No bigger than a sewing needle, it flew through the bars and fell to the floor. Hadjar stared at it in bewilderment. A simple splinter with no power or energy at all had passed through the ice barrier that could’ve stopped even Orune dead in his tracks.
“What’s that?” Hadjar asked, watching as the splinter melted a hole in the floor.
“A splinter from a staff,” Helmer answered casually, as if Hadjar had just asked him what time it was.
“A staff?”
“Yes,” the demon said, still looking bored. “Before you ask, it’s wood from a tree that was struck by the first lightning bolt that ever appeared in this world.”
Hadjar looked at the splinter again. It was already buried a couple of inches in the ice. He couldn’t believe that a simple piece of wood could contain enough mysteries of the Fire Spirit to overcome this ice barrier.
“And who did this staff belong to?”
Helmer jumped to his feet and stretched.
“It still belongs to an Immortal monk of the Ten Great Ones. According to some, he’s both the greatest mage of this era and the most mediocre monk in all of history.”
“What’s his name?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? The chances of you two meeting are zero.”
“I still want to know whose path I should definitely not cross.” Hadjar was afraid to even think about what a mage of this monk’s caliber was capable of if a splinter of his staff was this powerful.
“His name is Ash.”
Hadjar first pored over his memories and then used his neural network, but still couldn’t find any mention of the name anywhere.
“Don’t strain yourself, Hadj.” The demon chuckled. “You’ll only find tales of his deeds in the Dragon Lands. He was, and still is, the only disciple of Hu-Chun, the Blue Flame. Although, given his peculiar nature, he could’ve also appeared in the Seven Empires.”
“A mage of his caliber? I would’ve heard about it.”
“Might have…” Helmer said to himself. “He likes to travel. So, you might’ve seen him somewhere. But don’t try to remember him... He changes his face as often as I change my wine. Now, take the splinter. Don’t worry, it doesn’t bite.”
“Why should I?”
Hadjar waited for a while, but there was no response. When he looked up, Helmer was gone.
“Fucking demon,” he growled in frustration.
Ready to jump back at any moment, he carefully picked the splinter out of the pool of lukewarm water. To his surprise, it didn’t burn his hand. It lay in his palm, looking like an ordinary piece of wood.
“Ash... Ash...”
For some reason, the name seemed vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before. Maybe they really had met? He shook his head. No, that was stupid. Thanks to the Shadow and his stories, he knew who the Ten Great Ones were. In the Land of the Immortals, as in any other country probably, there was a record of its strongest denizens. They also had their own lists, the names of which he couldn’t remember. But, at the top of all the lists, above the various Masters, Mentors, and Disciples, and even above the Clans, Sects, and Orders, above the Ruling Family itself, there were only ten beings — the ten strongest Immortals. To become one of them, you had to defeat one of them.
The Shadow had spoken about them as if they were something unreachable. Something mystical and legendary. Many, if not most people, didn’t believe in their existence, even in the Land of the Immortals.
Stories about them were meant to inspire future disciples and assure them that if they studied and trained hard, they could one day rise to the top and become one of the Ten Great Ones. Hadjar had always presumed it was just a highly embellished legend.
The doors to the balcony on the upper floor, the one you had to climb the wing-shaped stairs to get to, suddenly opened with a noisy creak. Ana’Bree appeared in the doorway. Leaving behind shards of ice that hovered in the air, she headed toward Hadjar.
During their time together, Hadjar had picked up many of Einen’s tricks. He hid the splinter between his clenched pointer and middle finger. All he could do was hope that Ana’Bree wouldn’t notice it.
“Mad General,” she greeted him with a smile.
“Where-?”
Chapter 685
“W here what?” She walked over to the cage, waved her hand, and sat back down on her throne. “I had to come and see how my prisoner was doing.”
“Couldn’t you have asked someone? Are we alone here?”
“Apart from your friends, we are. If I liked company, I wouldn’t have made this abandoned ruin my own.”
Hadjar remembered the quatrain that claimed Ana’Bree had plunged Greven’Dor into an eternal slumber. These types of grandiose events were typical for legends and songs that slightly distorted the truth.
When she’d first come here, the monastery that had served as the training grounds for the warriors of the Hundred Kingdoms era had long since been abandoned. This made Hadjar consider whether he was being used. Again. But not by the nobles this time, but by those who controlled even them: the leader of the elves and the Head of the Predatory Blades clan were playing their own game.
“I see that you’re beginning to understand, Mad General,” Ana’Bree said with a bloodthirsty smile. It could easily compete with Helmer’s own.
“What do they want from you?”
The fae laughed that same avalanche/bubbling brook-like laugh from before. Hadjar was now certain that the Dinos and the Marnils hadn’t come here for Techniques and treasures alone. They must’ve known that the Last King hadn’t hidden his most valuable possessions here. What they needed from Greven’Dor was...
“They want me.” Ana’Bree crossed her legs. Hadjar swallowed. Even though he knew that simply touching her would lead to his doom, he was still a healthy man with needs. “Not in the way you’re thinking of, little warrior.”
“You-”
“I can’t read minds,” she interrupted. “But I know when a man lusts after me like a dog in heat. You’ve been alone for a long time, little warrior.”
Suddenly, he was out of the cage and in front of Ana’Bree. Behind them was a bed made from ice, covered in the thick skins of animals he’d never even seen or heard about before. Ana’Bree removed the few thin strips of fabric she wore and covered herself with just her hands and hair. Hadjar felt lust boiling up inside of him.
Clenching his fists, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts, as if they were drops of dirty water clinging to his hair.
“I’ll die,” he whispered, although he was still tempted to throw her on the bed and take her right then and there. She wasn’t using any tricks on him, either, her beauty alone was enough to drive anyone wild.
“Perhaps,” she said. “Or maybe I’ll take pity on you and make you my servant. Either way, you can’t know until you try.”
Ana’Bree ran her fingers through the air. A ring of ice formed nearby and hovered three feet above the ground. It was three feet in diameter and wasn’t attached to any strings or resting on any sort of stand. It simply levitated there, existing for some unknown reason. There was no noticeable energy involved in what she did, only a mysterious power the fae seemed to wield.
>
“Ice is merely water, Mad General.” Ana’Bree approached him. “Water washes away all things. Water is what gives and nourishes life. Without it, nothing would’ve ever been nor will be born. Water was, is, and will be. There is no life without water.”
Hadjar stared at the ring of ice as if mesmerized. He’d expected to see his tired face in it, but it showed no reflection.
“But water reflects only what it sees right now. It has no memory. Memory is in the ice. It remembers.”
Ana’Bree reached out and touched the disk made of ice with the tip of her index finger. It rippled like a disturbed lake. Circles spread out from her finger, encircling the edges and disappearing somewhere beneath the ice.
“Look, little warrior, look at your past,” she whispered into his ear.
On the surface of the disk, he saw the reflection of days long past. It had all happened so long ago that he no longer remembered how many years had passed since then.
Four men were sitting by a stream that ran near a cliff. In the tall, broad-shouldered man, he recognized his father. Laughing merrily, King Haver cradled a bundle of blankets and diapers in his arms.
“Elaine,” Hadjar whispered as his heart sank and a lump formed in his throat.
Nearby sat a woman of unmatched beauty. Her simple linen dress only added to her youthful look. Locks of black hair framed a kind face with a slightly upturned nose and eyes full of love and the promise that no harm in the world would ever touch him.
She stroked the hair of the sniffling boy who lay in her lap and whispered comforting words to him.
“Don’t worry, I’m here. All your troubles and woes will go away. Don’t worry... Mama’s here...”
“Mom...”
“You could be with them again,” Ana’Bree whispered. “I know who you are, descendant of the Nameless One. I saw your fate in the ice. I know what awaits you.”
She touched the rippling surface again, changing the image. This time, his reflection stared back at him. Blue eyes gazed up at the sky. Black hair lay scattered across the snow-covered stones. The amulet of ‘The Holy Sky’ School rested on his chest. He held a broken blade in his clenched hand. Around him, a pool of blood was slowly spreading, and a crossbow bolt could also be seen nearby.
Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Page 20
